


What If?

by caffinatedcollectorduck



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Post-Season/Series 01 AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:35:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29078706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caffinatedcollectorduck/pseuds/caffinatedcollectorduck
Summary: What if Hopper and Joyce found Eleven together?
Relationships: Eleven | Jane Hopper & Jim "Chief" Hopper, Jonathan Byers & Will Byers, Joyce Byers & Eleven | Jane Hopper, Joyce Byers & Jim "Chief" Hopper
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for the long hiatus, I mangled one of my hands in a longboarding accident and writing of any kind is still painful. enjoy this snippet I was able to come up with and please continue to ignore my horrific writers block; someday it will pass and FF will continue

“We need to talk,” came a familiar though unusually quiet voice from behind the woman as she stacked about her millionth can of soup. 

Joyce turned around to face the chief of police, who wasn’t currently dressed as such, and instead stood before her wearing jeans and flannel shirt. She could tell from the once over she gave him that the man was distressed, and about what in particular gravely concerned her. “What’s wrong?” 

Jim scratched the back of his neck anxiously, looked around the store to make sure nobody was watching them. “What time are you off?” 

It was mid morning by then, just before ten. “Three. I’m supposed to pick up Willl.” It was only his third week really up and going since everything, so Joyce still felt obligated to take him to and from school. She was lucky to have been granted the change in hours that allowed her to do so. 

“Can Jonathan get him?” 

“I don’t think he works today, I can call the school and check.” The woman said as her stomach dropped. She lowered her wavering voice. “Are we safe, Hop?” 

“Yeah, but she might not be.” 

Joyce knew immediately who the man was referencing. “I’ll talk to Jonathan. Pick me up at my house at three-thirty.” 

**** 

Snow was beginning to fall in large, wet flakes as Joyce and Hopper drove through the outskirts of Hawkins. Jim turned off on a gravel path that was quickly being covered with powder and pulled out of sight from the main road. He shut the car off, zipped up his jacket and stepped out, Joyce following his lead. She watched as he opened up the back and found it filled with countless wool blankets. The man grabbed a backpack from underneath one of them and shut the door, and as the woman glanced back at Blazer before following Hopper into the snow, she hoped desperately that the next time she rode in it, it would be with a little girl in tow. 

Hopper lead Joyce through the woods, and while it may have looked to anyone else like they were wandering aimlessly, she could tell the man was headed in a very particular direction. A few minutes into their walk, a small, wooden box came into view. Jim kneeled next to it and opened the lid, swearing silently at the contents that he’d really hoped would not still be there. Joyce joined him beside it, staring down at the multiple little stacks of Eggos wrapped in saran wrap and racking her brain for any good reason why she hadn’t taken them this time. 

Joyce had been informed of Hopper’s recent suspicions that Eleven hadn’t actually disappeared at all and had in fact been hiding in the woods around Hawkins for the past few weeks. He’d told her about the hunter who had encountered a child that somehow knocked him unconscious and stole his coat and hat, had let her know that the food he’d been leaving in the forest was definitely being eaten, though he freely admitted he couldn’t be sure who or what it was consuming it. Seeing the look on his face now, Joyce knew the man had really gotten his hopes up. She hoped for his sake and her own that if she was really out there, they could find her before it was too late. 

“How long have they been there?” the woman asked, pointing to the Eggos.

“Three days.” Jim answered. “Until this I was bringing them before and after work every day.” 

Joyce gazed around the forest, trying to determine where a scared child might possibly be hiding out here. Her heart sank; she knew from recent experience that Eleven could be anywhere. 

“Well, let’s start looking.” she said, turning back to the man and turning her worry into determination. 

Hopper reached into the backpack and pulled out a handful of marking flags, handing them to Joyce. “Let’s split up while it’s light and meet back here when it gets dark. She’s smart, so if its her I don’t think she would have gone very far from a reliable food source, I just don’t know which direction she went in.” 

The woman looked up at a sky that showed no intention of slowing down its snowfall anytime soon. Hopefully it wouldn’t cover their trails too quickly. “Okay, let’s do this.” 

They headed in opposite directions, both of them tracing their steps back to the box several times and starting over in a different direction when they either went way too far one way or hit terrain they weren’t able to cover on foot. They searched for over an hour separately before the last of daylight began to fade, both of them cold and disheartened as they trudged back to the meeting point and regrouped. Snow was only falling harder and the temperature was only dropping, and neither of them had seen even a hint that anyone was hiding in these woods, let alone the particular little girl they were looking for. 

“When do you need to be home?” Jim asked, trying to gauge how long it would take to drive the woman back into town and return to keep searching. 

“I didn’t say,” Joyce replied, feeling guilty. After everything that had just happened, she felt horrible about leaving her boys at night without giving them a time frame of when she’d be home. She hadn’t even told them what she was doing, that Eleven might still be out there. 

“I can take you back whenever you’re ready.” 

However, it was just a little after five. She could spare another hour and make something up to tell the boys if they didn’t find anything. “Let’s keep looking together. Do you have a flashlight?” 

The man produced two from the backpack, passing one to her. 

“Okay,” the woman said, flicking it on. “Which way haven’t we tried yet?

They settled on a direction and began searching again, Jim taking the left and Joyce taking the right. They walked a ways before being forced to turn around when encountering a frozen creek bed. Midway back, a small woodland animal scurried across their path ahead of them and came to rest underneath a large pine tree. Joyce smiled slightly at the quiet squeaks of the small animal as they approached it, then stopped in her tracks when she heard the creature begin to eat something that was audibly crunchy. It took Hopper a minute to notice the woman had stopped behind him, and by the time he turned around, Joyce was following the sound and pushing aside the low hanging branches of the tree where the noise was coming from. 

She immediately spotted the animal, a little snow mink, chowing down on a cache of frozen Eggos that were half buried in the snow. Her heart sank at the sight of exactly what she’d been fearing-that it had just been some animal all along-but it lifted again a moment later when she saw movement from the corner of her eye and looked up to spot a small sneaker as white as the surrounding snow peeking out from behind the trunk of the tree. 

“Hop! Over here!” The woman called as she crawled forward, causing the mink to flee and the shoe to move out of sight behind the tree trunk, where a weak moan could barely be heard. The man was right behind her when Joyce lifted the stiff, partially frozen little girl into her lap and touched her face, her neck, her chest, looking for any sign that she was alive. 

“Oh my God, I don’t know if she’s breathing!” Joyce said, her voice turning frantic. She was feeling that same awful and absolutely overwhelming sensation of panic that she’d felt when she found her son in an alternate dimension just weeks earlier and watched with horror as the man, the same who was beside her now, breathed life back into him. She hoped with all of her heart that she wouldn’t have to watch him do the same thing now. She was moving, the woman kept telling herself, trying to steady her facing thoughts. She was moaning. 

Jim pulled the child into his arms, peeling off his gloves with his teeth and pushing his fingers into her neck, searching desperately for a pulse. He didn’t need to look for long; the contrast of the man’s warm fingers on her ice cold skin was enough to make Eleven flinch violently away from him in shock, then unintentionally draw herself back towards his warmth a moment later, whining on both her inhale and exhale. Joyce let out a sob of relief at the sound as Hopper reached into the backpack and retrieved what looked like a giant folded up piece of tinfoil-a shock blanket-and proceeded to wrap the little girl in it before hoisting her into his arms, both of them groaning at the effort.

“Take both flashlights and lead the way back to the car. My keys are in my right jacket pocket.” Hopper said, using his elbows and his own head to push the branches out of the way, protecting the child in his arms from the snow that fell due to his movement. Joyce trailed close behind for only a moment before immediately taking the lead, following their now barely visible flagged path at a much faster pace than had previously been set. Eleven was limp as Jim carried her through the forest, her head rolling on its own accord cradled against the inside of his elbow, her skinned, raw little legs dangling like a dolls from his arms. 

They made it back to the box quickly and to the Blazer soon after, Joyce fishing the keys out of his pocket with her cold, shaking fingers and unlocking the doors, turning on the ignition and blasting the heat while Hopper lifted Eleven into the backseat and covered her with blankets. He removed her frozen hat and used the corner of one of the blankets to dry the icicles from the tips of the child’s shorn but growing head of hair, rubbed warmth back into her exposed fingers. They’d been gone awhile, but the Blazer was quick to heat up, and at Joyce’s suggestion, they moved the girl up to the passenger seat where the vents could hit her better.  
Eleven was still unconscious but had started to shiver and shake uncontrollably, something both adults knew was actually a good thing. Her legs and arms trembled in an almost seizure like manner, her once knee high white socks that were now coated in blood and dirt slipping down to her ankles. Joyce touched her shoes, her socks, her dress, and found all of them soaking wet and freezing cold. 

“We’ve gotta get her out of these clothes, Hop.” she told the man who was acting as a buffer of warmth between the little girl and the passenger set. 

He nodded in agreeance and lifted Eleven’s legs so that he could untie her shoes. They were nearly glued to her feet, and as he peeled her socks off, the realization that she could be suffering from significant frostbite hit him and he was suddenly terrified all over again; what if nothing they did was enough for her, that she needed a hospital and there certainly wasn’t one they could take her to without anyone noticing the numbered tattoo on her arm. He was more than relieved to find that, while her feet were grossly discolored and felt like a block of ice, Jim had actually seen worse, and he let out a loud sigh when he concluded that she wasn’t at risk of losing any of her toes, though they’d still likely cause her quite a bit of pain for a few days.  
Joyce immediately wrapped the child’s porcelain feet in the shock blanket that Hopper removed from around her shoulders as he took off the oversized hunting jacket she’d stolen and unbuttoned the back of her pink dress. Eleven was still trembling and quietly moaned while the two adults tried as gently as they could to undress her. Her skin was still cold to the touch under her layers, and she was so, so skinny, each of her ribs visible, the left side of her bare chest rapidly pounding with every beat of her heart. They were able to slowly pull the stiff, dirty dress over her head, which reeked of mold and urine. Joyce had to cover her mouth to stifle a sob over the fact that the little girl was completely bare underneath it; she’d been out there that whole time without even any underwear. 

Hopper threw her clothes in the back seat and covered her completely in blankets again before turning back to Joyce, a question on his lips that he himself wasn’t even sure of yet. It took a minute before he spoke.“I’m going to, uh, take you home, and then I’ll figure out what to do with her from there.” 

“Shouldn’t we take her to the hospital?”

“And tell them what?” he waited for her response, the question lingering in the air, one neither of them could answer. “Yeah.” 

“We need to get her warmed up and quick, so let’s take her to my house and get a fire going, maybe give her a warm bath when she’s awake.” 

“Joyce, it’s not safe for her there,” the man started. 

“Well it’s not really safe for her anywhere, Hop, and staying in your car with a naked child on your lap isn’t any better than locking all the doors and windows and drawing the curtains at my house, and you know it.” 

Hopper sighed, weighing his options heavily and quickly. “Alright, for one night. I’ll figure something else out tomorrow.” 

****


	2. Chappter 2

Will periodically glanced out the front window as Jonathan washed their dishes from dinner in the kitchen. Where was his mom? Why hadn’t she told them what she was doing or when she’d be home? The boy was filled with extreme anxiety over it, and his older brother could easily tell. 

“Hey, she’s gonna be home soon. She would’ve said something if she was going to be really late.” Jonathan tried to placate when he joined his brother in the living room, though he himself was worried too. The behavior was definitely unusual for his mother, especially given the recent circumstances; she didn’t like to be away from either of her boys lately any more than she needed to be. 

“Are you sure she didn’t say anything about where she was going? I mean, her car is still here.” Will said, pointing to the green Pinto parked in their snow covered driveway, where her vehicle had already accumulated a few inches in just the last few hours. 

“Again,” Jonathan sighed for the thousandth time that night. “She left a message with the office on her lunch break asking me to pick you up from school because she had to do something after work. That’s it.” 

“But what would she be doing that she wouldn’t tell us about?” 

“I don’t know, Will. I’m just as confused as you are.” the older boy said, plopping down on the couch facing the window.

The boy was quiet for a moment before nearly whispering, “What if something bad happened to her?” 

Jonathan quickly recognized the signs of his younger brother beginning to spiral. This had been happening a lot recently, but his mom was always there to help him through it, he’d never had to do it alone. “Hey, you can’t think like that, alright. It’s only six-thirty, and we have no reason to believe that there’s anything wrong.” 

“What do you mean ‘no reason’?” Will said, his voice starting to rise in pitch. Hot tears were brewing in his eyes when the sound of a car engine snapped his attention away from Jonathan and back towards the front window, where a pair of headlights momentarily blinded both of them. 

“Is that Hopper?” The older boy said, standing and stepping beside his brother. 

The headlights switched off, illuminating the police chief’s blazer. “Why is Hopper here?” Will said in that voice again, his breath audibly hitching. 

“Wait, look, that’s Mom, in the passenger seat!” Jonathan said, pointing. Sure enough, the woman was there, holding a bundle of something tight to her chest. 

Will and Jonathan watched from inside as Hopper turned off the engine and got out of the driver’s seat, hurrying so quickly to the passenger side that he slipped on ice and almost fell, barely catching himself and bending his mirror in the process. He opened the door and leaned over inside the car for a moment, gathering whatever was in their mom’s arms into his own. Joyce slid out quickly and slammed the door, glancing up to meet her boys’ wide, surprised eyes. 

Will rushed to unlock and open the front door, shivering from the rush of cold air that the two adults brought with them as they hurried inside. Before either of the boys could ask any questions about where the two had been and what the chief was carrying, Joyce quickly locked the door behind them, closed the front curtains, and directed Hopper into the living room. He carefully eased the blanket covered something down onto the couch against the wall, where a tiny face was now visible, and Jonathan gasped in shock at the sight of someone he never expected to see again. 

“I need you guys to get some wood and start a fire.” Joyce said, looking at her sons expectantly.

“Is that…” Will said, pointing to the girl he’d seen only in what he’d thought was a dream. 

“Yes, and we need to get her warm, fast.”

“I’ll get the wood, Will, get the newspaper and lighter.” 

“Thank you, boys.” Joyce said, touching both of their cheeks momentarily before disappearing into her bedroom as her children dispersed obediently.

Hopper began removing his clothes, shedding both his jacket and flannel to the floor and stripping off his inner thermal shirt, exposing his bare chest. He unwrapped the blankets covering Eleven’s head and torso, leaving the shivering child now equally exposed as the man. Her teeth chattered loudly and a whimper accompanied each breath as Jim dressed her in his shirt and Joyce returned to the living room with the comforter from her bed, swapping out the multiple itchy wool blankets for a large, soft goosedown. Hopper sat on the couch next to the child and scooped her up onto his bare chest, hoping his own warm skin would help heat the child’s frozen little core. Joyce wrapped them both in her comforter and hurried to the kitchen to boil some water. 

Jonathan and Will met at the fireplace-which was, oddly enough, located in their dining room-and got to work quickly. As soon they had the flames going considerably, the two moved the table and chairs out of the way and brought the cushions from the adjoining couch as well as all of the spare bedding from the hall closet. Once the warming nest was complete, they led Hopper to sit with the girl beside the fire, Joyce meeting them with a cup of hot tea for when they child properly woke up. She also brought a few pairs of socks and a warm hat, but didn’t worry about dressing her further, hoping that the combined warmth of Hopper’s skin, her comforter, and the roaring fire would be enough. And it seemed to be for the moment; Eleven continued to tremble against Hopper, and her movements were becoming slightly more purposeful, her stiff arms and legs finally beginning to stretch out around the man, wrapping themselves around his warmth. The only part of her that was visible were her eyes, which began to flutter more and more with each passing moment. 

After a good twenty minutes of silence from everyone around the fire, the child elicited a long moan, tried to lift her head but was unable to do so. Eleven had no idea where she was when she opened her eyes, but could feel the weight of someone’s arms wrapped tightly around her, and was acutely aware of the loud heartbeat that wasn’t her own reverbirating through her chest. She felt frozen down to her bones but could also sense that she was somewhere warm, that the cold wasn’t so all consuming anymore as it had been for so long. The girl blinked a few times before a familiar face came into view, one she was surprised but very pleased to see. 

“Hey sweetheart,” said Will’s mama in a voice that sounded like it was coming from underwater. Joyce reached forward and gently stroked what was exposed on Eleven's cheek, feeling her porcelain skin prickle with goosebumps under her touch. “Do you remember me?” 

The words were there, but her jaw was frozen shut and there was no getting them out. Eleven was barely able to manage something that resembled a nod, putting extreme effort into making eye contact with the woman she did indeed recognize. 

“You’re safe at my house.” she said, still stroking her cheek. Eleven felt her warmth like a tickle, and attempted to lean into it. “Do you remember Hopper, the police chief?” 

The child was trying to process the question when she felt before she heard a deep voice rumbling inside her own chest. “I’m the one who’s been leaving you all those Eggos.”  
It was coming from beneath her, above her, all around her. Eleven forced her stiff neck to turn in the direction of the sound of the voice, and locked eyes with another person she recognized. It was the big man who’d given her his shirt after the bath, who had been to the Lab and seen the Gate she’d accidentally opened. 

“Hey, Kid.” he said, his furry lips curling into a slight smile. “I’m glad to see you awake.” 

“Should we give her a bath now?” Joyce said, wanting more than anything to clean the little girl; at first glance her compllection appeared almost tan, but upon closer inspection it was clear that dirt had become ingrained in her skin. 

“Let’s take her temperature first, I don’t want to send her into shock.” Hopper replied. 

Eleven heard their words but had a hard time processing them because the two spoke so quickly. The word ‘bath’ had stuck out, though, and while just the sound of it would normally have instilled fear into the child, this time it was met with indifference. There was no way she’d be able to contact anyone if they tried to force her, she was far too exhausted. 

“Will, honey, will you grab the thermometer from my nightstand, please?” the woman asked her youngest son. He’d been fighting random fevers on and off since his time in the upside down, and Joyce had developed the habit of taking his temperature in the mornings and sometimes again at night. 

When Will stood up and passed through Eleven’s very narrow field of vision, the girl’s eyes about bulged right out of her head. All this time she hadn’t been sure of Will’s fate, had never known whether or not they’d gotten to him in time. Seeing him safe in his own home filled Eleven with even more relief than waking up surrounded by warmth. She let out an audible sigh, and relaxed further into Hopper’s arms. 

The boy returned a moment later and passed the thermometer to his mother, who held it out to Eleven, who crossed her eyes looking down at the unfamiliar object. “Open your mouth and hold this under your tongue, sweetheart, and stay very still. This is going to tell us how cold you are.” 

Joyce leaned forward at the same time Eleven turned away and hid her face in Hopper’s chest. She was confused and scared, and even though these adults were a night and day difference from the ones she’d previously exclusively know, she was more than used to being lied to and was still apprehensive, especially regarding something that they were trying to make her put into her mouth. 

“Hey, it’s alright, Kid,” said the man who was holding her close “We just need to know what your body temperature is, and this will tell us. All you have to do is hold it in your mouth for a minute. It’s not gonna hurt, I promise.” 

Promise. She knew that word. It was something you couldn’t break. Eleven looked up at the man, studying his eyes, trying to see if they were genuine like Mikes or deceiving like Papa’s. While they were the same color as the latter, they were much softer, and appeared to hold nothing but protection. Slowly, she turned back to the woman, who’s expression matched his, and cautiously opened her mouth. 

The little glass stick was cold and felt odd inside of her mouth, but Hopper had been right, it definitely didn’t hurt, though it felt like she held it under her tongue forever, the two adults staring her down as they all waited. Jim glanced at the watch on his wrist and nodded to Joyce, who leaned forward and removed it. 

“Almost 92.” the woman said quietly, covering her mouth. 

From beside her, Will gaped, and Jonathan mumbled a quiet, “Jesus.” 

Hopper, who had the most experience with hypothermia, seemed to be the most optimistic, however, which was encouraging. “That’s actually better than I thought, but she needs to be at least at 96 before we give her a bath.” 

“What can we do until then to get her warm?” Joyce asked. 

“Didn’t you make a drink?” 

She nodded, reaching for the coffee cup next to the fireplace, which had cooled just enough for the child to drink. “Here, sweetheart, this tea, it’s warm water with a little flavor. Not too hot, see?” the woman said, taking a sip herself to show the girl that it was safe. “Can you lift up your head and take a sip for me?” 

This time Eleven complied immediately. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was until now; she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d actually drank something, all that had been available for the last few frozen weeks was snow. The girl lifted her head, which felt like it weighed about a hundred pounds, and let out a satisfied breath through her nose when the cup was held to her lips and the sweet, warm liquid began to heat her throat and chest immediately. She wanted to drink the whole thing in one big gulp, and whined slightly when Jim pulled the cup away after only a few sips. 

“Slow down, Kid, I don’t want it to make you sick.” he said, passing the cup back to Joyce.

Will and Jonathan sat beside their mother, unsure of what to do or say. They’d both heard the story of her disappearance into thin air on multiple occasions, so to see her here now was mind blowing to say the least, especially for Will, who’d never even really actually seen her before. He couldn’t believe she was really alive. The guys were gonna freak when he told them. 

“Oh my God, I have to tell Mike!” Will said, standing up suddenly. “He’s gonna lose his mind!” 

Eleven’s head shot up at the magic word she’d been dying to hear for so long. She opened her mouth to say it too, but nothing came out. Before she could try again, the voice from beneath her beat her to it. 

“No! You can’t tell anyone.” Jim said, turning on his police chief voice. That alone was enough to silence Will, but not his mother. 

“Hop, come on. Mike should know. He has not been the same kid since she disappeared.” 

“Joyce, no way. Do you have any idea what kind of surveillance that family is still under? I drive through their neighborhood every day and see at least two power and light vans somewhere. We may as well call the Lab and just tell them exactly where we are to save some time.” 

“We cannot keep her a secret from those boys, that is not fair.” The woman countered.

“I’m not saying we have to forever, but for tonight? Yes, we do.” 

There was an extended silence before Hopper addressed Will. “Buddy, I know you want to tell your friends she’s safe, but doing that right now would put us all in danger. We can tell ‘em soon, but not right now, okay?” 

Will nodded; he understood. 

And while the little girl in Hopper’s arms was devastated, she understood, too. She’d seen firsthand the amount of surveillance Mike was under, and didn’t doubt the man if he said they were still being watched. Her decision was the same as it had been the night she’d gone back to his house only to leave again; she had to stay away to keep them both safe. 

The group continued on like this for a while, Eleven slowly finishing the tea and Joyce bringing her cup after cup. They took her temperature again an hour or so later, pleased to find it had already gone up to 94. It was nearly nine by then and a school night for both boys. Jonathan retreated into his room after bringing in enough firewood to last the night, and Joyce excused herself to tuck Will in. He was still sleeping in her bed, and was already in there under the covers when she came in to say goodnight. While the boy had been back in school for a few weeks now, his energy levels were still pretty low comparatively, and he often found himself tired enough to go to sleep long before Joyce’s loosely enforced bedtime of nine-thirty. 

The woman lied down next to her son, brushing the long strands of straight hair from his eyes that needed another trim soon. “How’re you feeling, baby?” 

“Fine, I don’t think I have a fever.” the boy replied. 

Joyce smiled. “Not that, I mean...with everything else.” 

“Oh,” Will said, unsure of what to tell her, unsure of how he truly did feel about it. “I was scared when you were late.” 

“I know, and I’m sorry I didn’t explain. I didn’t want to tell you why only for us to not find her, you know?” 

“Where was she?”

“She was in the woods. Hopper’s been leaving her food for a few weeks.” 

The boy was quiet for a moment. “Is...she gonna stay with us?” 

“No,” Joyce said, feeling surprised at the disappointment that accompanied the admission. “It’s not safe for her here either, or for us. We’re going to work something out though, I just don’t know what yet.” 

Will nodded, pausing again before asking another question, one that made Joyce smile this time. “Can...I stay home tomorrow? I don’t think I can go to school and not tell them about her.”

The next day was Friday and one of Joyce’s days off. “Sure, baby. And I’ll talk to Hop about when we can tell them, because I agree with you.” 

Will smiled as Joyce kissed his forehead and tucked him in, shutting off the lamp and switching on the hall light as she stood in the doorway. “Goodnight, baby. I’ll be in soon, come get me if you need anything.” 

“Night, mom.”


	3. Chapter 3

Joyce peeked in on Jonathan, who had his nose in a book with his walkman on full blast, and knew he would come to her if he needed anything more that night. She padded into the dining room and added another log to the fire. Eleven was still cuddled in Hopper’s chest and nursing probably her fourth cup of tea, finally beginning to feel satiated. There was a small ring around her lips from where the liquid had washed her face, and Joyce seized the opportunity to clean her up just a little bit, heading into the kitchen and returning with a warm, damp cloth. 

“Can I wash your face, honey?” Joyce asked as she crouched beside the girl. Eleven nodded, closing her eyes to the woman’s gentle touch, remembering Mike, the last person who’d wiped her face clean like this. 

“Will’s gonna sleep in my room if you want to put her in his bed tonight.” Joyce said to Hopper as she turned the rag over, used the clean side to wipe the child’s neck and collarbone. 

“I think I should keep her near the fire. What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?” the man asked. 

“I’m off tomorrow, and Will asked to stay home. He doesn’t think he can keep the secret from the boys.” 

“That’s fair.” Jim said, looking down at the newly cleaned girl in his lap. “Hey, look at that, there’s a face under all that dirt.” 

“What’s her temp?” Joyce asked, still eager to do the job right. 

“I just took it, still under 95. Safest bet is to just get her clean in the morning since you’re going to be here anyway.” 

Joyce debated on questioning him now on how long he was going to allow Eleven to stay there, but didn’t want to speak about that kind of thing in front of the child, didn’t want her to worry at all about where she would have to go next, wanted her to feel the most security as possible at the moment. 

The multiple cups of tea had finally caught up to the little girl, and combined with the fact that she was starting to regain pinprickly sensations in her previously numb fingers and toes, Eleven began to shift uncomfortably against the man. Hopper assumed she wanted a change in position and moved the child so that she was lying on her back against him, but it didn’t really help. 

“You okay, Kid? You’re really squirmin’.” Jim asked the child, looking down at her. Eleven’s eyebrows were knitted together and she bit at her bottom lip, unsure of how to tell him what was wrong. 

“Let’s take her to the bathroom, Hop.” Joyce stepped in and said, nodding in the direction of the empty cups next to the fireplace. 

The man cursed himself silently for not understanding sooner and gathered the girl against him, his knees popping as he pushed himself to stand and follow Joyce down the hall. Eleven began to shiver again when Hopper lifted her onto the bathroom counter and held her upright as he removed her blankets and debated on what to do next. Luckily, Joyce already had a plan. 

“Second drawer down in Will’s dresser are his pajamas if you want to get some for her.” she said.

Jim smiled in thanks at the out she’d given him and passed the girl off to the woman, leaving to retrieve the clothes. 

“I’ve got you sweetheart, come here,” Joyce said, helping the shaking girl carefully off of the counter. 

Eleven was trembling and lightheaded and barely capable of holding herself upright, but she did manage to use the toilet independently and was more than grateful for the opportunity to feel like an actual human being again for the first time in weeks. Hopper’s arm snuck around the corner and dropped off a pair of Will’s pajamas, then stood in wait just outside the door. When she was finished, Joyce helped the girl dress in her son’s clothes, noting that while the two kids’ had appeared to be pretty close to the same size, Will’s pants were too big for Eleven around the waist, but at the same time too short for her in the legs. Joyce tried to help the girl stand, but the moment she attempted to put pressure on her feet she cried out in pain and collapsed against the woman. Hopper overheard and immediately stepped in to scoop her into his arms and carried her back to the fireplace, Joyce close behind him with the bundle of blankets. 

“Should I make her some food?” Joyce asked when the two were situated again. She felt like there was more she needed to do for the child but was unsure of where to start. 

Jim looked down at the little girl in his lap who was silently enduring violent shaking spasms every few moments. “Do you want something to eat, Kid?” 

Eleven waited for her body to still again before purposefully shaking her head against the man’s chest. She was so cold and so exhausted, she’d barely had enough energy to even drink anything. She knew she was hungry and that she hadn’t eaten in too long, but she could no longer feel the hollowness in her stomach, and it had stopped bothering her. She didn’t want to eat; she just wanted to go to sleep. 

“Let’s try for breakfast tomorrow.” Hopper told Joyce, putting a protective hand on the child’s head and pressing his lips to her the blankets covering her hairline. 

“Okay.” Joyce conceded, seeing Eleven’s eyes grow heavier by the second. “Can you think of anything else she needs, anything I can do before I go to bed?” 

“A glass of water?” 

“You’ve got it.” she said, returning with one momentarily. “Come get me if you need me, Hop. Don’t hesitate.” 

“Thanks, Joyce.” the man replied. 

The woman pressed a kiss to Eleven’s forehead, causing her closed eyes to open once again. She smiled tiredly, trying hard to stay awake for another moment. “Goodnight, sweetheart. I’ll see you in the morning, alright?” 

The girl nodded and closed her eyes again, Jim’s loud heartbeat and steady breathing lulling her into the deepest, most satisfying sleep she’d ever had. 

Hopper fell in and out of sleep throughout the night, trying both to figure out what in the hell he was going to do, and get some kind of rest. There was no way she could stay here for an extended period of time, there were too many reasons to count why. He couldn’t take her to his trailer and frankly he didn’t want to, it was no place for a kid. The man grappled with indecision for hours, finally falling asleep in the middle of the night but waking suddenly and with a gasp at dawn after a vivid dream that gave him an answer to his problem. 

The man eased himself out from underneath Eleven, who moaned and curled into a ball in his absence but didn’t wake up. She’d slept like a rock the entire night, had barely moved against his chest; he had to keep checking to make sure she was actually breathing. Hopper felt her forehead with his hand, his cheek, and was pleased to find that, if anything, she was actually warm. Jim moved as quietly as he could into the kitchen and searched for a pen and paper, leaving a note on the kitchen table. 

Hopper crept quietly to Joyce’s bedside, trying to find a way to wake her and not scare her. She opened her eyes before he could, having sensed a presence in the bedroom. The woman had been a light sleeper since Jonathan was born, but it was even worse now. 

“Everything okay?” she whispered, her voice thick from sleep. 

“Everything is fine. There’s some things I have to do, I’m leaving now. She’s still asleep by the fire and probably will be for a while. Call me if you need me but on my radio only, alright?” Jim explained quietly. 

Joyce nodded tiredly in understanding. “Be safe, Hop.” she said, closing her eyes again. 

“You too.” 

But the woman was out of bed and making coffee twenty minutes later, unable to stand the idea of Eleven waking up all alone. She read the note Hopper had left while sipping from her mug, a smile tugging at her lips from the content. 

I have a plan. She can stay here for the weekend. Be back later with clothes.

Joyce felt relief flow through her, both at Hopper’s confirmation and that she’d have the girl for the next couple of days. She strode to the fireplace and tossed the note inside-it was technically evidence, after all-glancing down at the sleeping child curled up on her couch cushions, and was relieved to see that Eleven’s cheeks had grown rosy pink as opposed to the porcelain skin she’d had the night before. The woman pulled over a dining room chair and sat between the fire and the girl, warming her own back and legs as the sun rose and shone through the kitchen window, the only one not covered by curtains. 

Staring down at the sleeping little girl, Joyce thought suddenly of Terry Ives and her sister; two more people who more than deserved to know that she was alive and well. But if telling the boys was as dangerous as Hopper made it out to be, then contacting Eleven’s mother and aunt was probably not the best call either, at least immediately. And besides, however sad, it wasn’t like Terry could take care of her daughter now anyway. Did Eleven even know of her mother’s existence? She’d seen that sadistic doctor as a father figure, a thought that consumed Joyce with bile-filled fury, but was she even aware that she had a mother who never stopped believing that her child was really still out there? 

The woman’s thoughts were interrupted by a long moan and a dry cough from the girl on the floor. Joyce set her half finished coffee on the fireplace and knelt next to Eleven, who’s eyes were just beginning to flutter open. 

Joyce ran her fingers through the child’s short hair, which was dry and straw-like to the touch. “Good morning, sweetheart.” 

Eleven pulled an arm that felt like it was made of metal out from under the covers and rubbed hard at her eyes. It took her a few moments to remember where she was and how she’d gotten there, and even then the memories came back in fragments. She recalled feeling nothing, then frigid cold, followed by tingling warmth and seeing the faces of those she knew, including the one in front of her now, Will’s mama. Seeing Joyce brought on a sensation in her chest that was unfamiliar but welcomed, one that made Eleven feel nothing but calm and content. 

“How do you feel, honey?” Joyce asked, touching the child’s forehead and cheeks with both the palm and back of her hand. 

Eleven didn’t feel anything but a deep heaviness that seemed as if it were in her very bones. She knew she’d been asleep, but hadn’t felt like it for very long, and wanted nothing more than to return to it. She managed to shrug her shoulders in response.

“You’re actually a little warm, let’s get these blankets off of you.” Joyce said. 

She pulled the comforter down and tried her best to keep her expression totally neutral because it was very clear that Eleven had wet herself, and likely pretty recently. The girl stared up at the woman in horror, her breath stuck in her throat. Joyce could see it, too, and knew that the child was waiting for her reaction, anticipating the reprimand. Instead, the woman deflected and pretended not to even notice. 

“Look at how much your hair has grown!” Joyce changed the subject, running her fingers through Eleven’s still very short hair again. “What do you say we go to the bathroom towash and brush it? I bet it’s even longer than it looks.” 

Eleven stared at the woman in disbelief before she nodded, letting out a breath of relief. She wasn’t mad! She didn’t even say anything! 

“Okay, do you think you can walk if I help you?” 

The girl nodded again, though when she tried to sit up, her head spun and her vision went blurry for a second. The process was slow, but Joyce eventually helped Eleven stand, and they took slow, wobbly steps down the hall and into the bathroom. The girl immediately stripped the now uncomfortable pajama pants off, and Joyce helped the child sit on the closed toilet lid before starting the water in the bathtub. 

“This is what a bath is supposed to be like.” Joyce told the girl with a smile, adding liquid soap and getting a washcloth and an empty cup out from under the sink. 

Eleven watched with curiosity as bubbles sprung from under the faucet, causing the roar of the bathwater to become less deafening by the second. She started to remove her shirt but was unable to lift her arms over her head, so Joyce helped her undress the rest of the way and held both of her hands tightly as she shakily stepped into the bathtub, wincing at the heat on her sensitive feet. She quickly sat down to alleviate some of the pressure, but gasped in pain when the warm water stung the chafed skin on her backside that had been left exposed to the elements for weeks. 

“I’m sorry, honey, I know it hurts.” Joyce said empathetically as Eleven’s face contorted in pain and she squeezed the woman’s hands tightly. “Try to take a deep breath, it’ll feel better soon.” 

The child gasped out a breath, but Joyce was right, after a moment the pain did begin to subside. Eleven let go of the woman’s hands and tentatively reached into the bathtub, touching the foam that had covered her toes and was inching up her legs. She scooped a small amount in her hand and examined it closely, touched it to her arm, her cheek, her lips, puckered at the taste. 

“They’re called bubbles,” Joyce said with a smile, showing the bottle of bubble bath to Eleven. “They’re made from soap, that’s why it doesn’t taste good.” 

She merely glanced at the container before going back to the foam, completely entranced with it. Eleven smeared the stuff on her chest, stuck it to the shower walls, let it go in mid air and watched it slowly fall, clapped her hands together and watched them go flying. When Joyce blew a handful of the stuff at her and it stuck to the tip of her nose, the woman was rewarded with the first smile she’d ever seen from the girl, and it was a real one too, her mouth opened slightly in surprise and all of her teeth visible. 

“Ready to wash your hair?” Joyce asked when the tub was filled and she turned the water off. Eleven touched her hair with her foamy fingers and nodded. “Okay, can you lay all the way flat on your back?” 

Eleven did as she was asked, though she did so stiffly and hesitantly, feeling horribly reminded of the last time she been in water like this. Her round, dark eyes held fear and so much more, and 

Joyce bit the inside of her cheek trying to think of how to comfort her. 

“We’ll be really quick, okay? And I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” she said, her hand resting on the girl’s cheek. 

After a moment Eleven nodded, and closed her eyes in anticipation for the inevitable moisture, but was surprised instead when the water Joyce poured over her head never touched her face. She cautiously opened her eyes and stared up at the smiling woman as she washed her hair, the repetitive rushing sounds slowly calming her heavily beating heart. 

Joyce kept her promise and they were done quickly, and she helped the girl to sit up, handing her the washcloth soaked in soap. “You wash your body with this and I’ll go get some clothes and a towel, is that okay?” 

Eleven nodded, having already grown tired of using her arms by the time Joyce returned with another pair of Will’s pajamas. She’d also snagged some underwear for the girl, one of the new pairs she’d intended on saving for Will’s stocking for Christmas; the odd tradition had begun the year Jonathan started wearing underwear and was one she’d just continued, though she knew her boys thought it was kind of weird. 

When she returned, the woman helped her out of the bathtub and stood her on the bathmat, wrapped her in a towel, and walked her backwards to sit again on the closed toilet seat. Joyce dried her hair with a separate towel and brushed it out, showing Eleven how it looked in the mirror and eliciting a small smile from her. She examined the child’s hands and feet, which were still inflamed and looked incredibly painful, but didn’t need any first aid, though she did trim her nails. Additionally, the woman applied lotion to Eleven’s dry, cracked skin, encouraging the girl to do it herself on the worst spots. When they were finished, Joyce pulled Will’s pajama shirt over her head and held out the underwear for her to step into. The girl studied the unfamiliar article of clothing carefully once they were on, curious about the strange flap in the front. 

“I know it’s weird, it’s because they’re for boys. Don’t worry, Hop is getting some just for you.” Joyce told the girl, trying to hide her amusement at the child’s reaction. 

“Hop?” Eleven asked, and Joyce realized it was the first time she’d spoken. She’d remembered her voice as clear, feminine, and quiet, but now the girl sounded like a heavy smoker, and she coughed to clear her throat after she spoke. 

“Hopper, the police chief. Hop for short, like how the boys call you El.” the woman explained. 

El. It had been so long since she’d heard someone say that. She immediately thought of Mike in the basement. His name was short for something, too. But now she thought of Hopper, the police chief, who’d stayed with her until she’d fallen asleep. She wondered where he was now, glancing at the closed bathroom door, thinking maybe he was right behind it like he had been the night before. 

“He’ll be back, don’t worry. He’s getting you some clothes of your own.” Joyce said, helping the girl step into the pajama bottoms. 

Clothes. Would they be ones like Mike and his friends wore, or like the dress that had belonged to Nancy? She’d liked the dress; Mike told her she was pretty when she wore it, and wearing it had made her feel so real, like she was an actual person and not just something people could use to cause hurt. But that dress hadn’t helped her much out in the woods; it held hardly any heat and her legs were left totally bare and so cold. What would Hopper bring her? 

“Okay, what do you say to a cup of hot chocolate?” Joyce asked, tossing the towels into the hamper. 

The child shrugged, unsure of what the woman was talking about. 

“It’s a drink. Come on, I think you’ll like it.” Joyce said, helping Eleven to her feet, which were now warm and clean and covered in Will’s socks. 

They slowly walked into the kitchen together, the woman depositing the child into one of the kitchen chairs and pouring milk into a pot. As she did so, Jonathan came out of his bedroom and went into the bathroom to start the shower. It was short lived, and Joyce cursed herself; their house ran out of hot water so quickly, and Jonathan had to get ready for school. But the young man didn’t mention it, and joined the two of them in the kitchen soon after, noting the abcense of his brother, who should’ve been up by then. 

“Where’s Will?” he asked his mother, sitting at the table beside Eleven. 

“Still asleep, he asked to stay home last night so he wouldn’t have to keep the secret from the boys.” the woman answered.

“Should I still make breakfast?” 

Joyce’s cheeks flushed red. Her son, always so responsible. But he was just a kid too, and he didn’t always need to be that way. She, the mother, should be fretting over cooking breakfast for her children, not him. “Don’t worry about it, honey, I’ve got it this morning. What are you hungry for?” 

Jonathan was caught off guard; it was rare that his mom made breakfast. Then again, it was also rare that they had this girl joining them for the meal. “Um, I was just gonna have toast. I thought maybe I’d get to school early and get some stuff done since I don’t have to drive Will.” 

“That’s fine, hun,” Joyce said, pulling out the bread and looking at Eleven expectantly. “Do you want some toast, baby?” 

The girl nodded vigorously, realizing suddenly how good food sounded. The night before she couldn’t have cared less about eating, but now, after some sleep and a bath, she was voracious. 

Joyce knew Jonathan wanted peanut butter on his, and was about to ask Eleven what she wanted but decided to just give her the same thing, thinking it would be a good source of protein for the child. She was serving the two of them when Will walked in and joined the trio at the table. 

“Morning, honey. How’d you sleep?” Joyce asked as she set the plates down and felt her youngest son’s forehead. 

“Good.” he replied, still rubbing his eyes.

“Are you hungry for breakfast?” 

The boy looked around, surprised to see Jonathan eating and not cooking. “You’re making breakfast?” 

“Yeah, anything you want.” Joyce said, feeling another pang in her chest.

“Umm...sausage and eggs?” Will proposed. That was what his brother usually made. 

“Sure. El, honey, do you want to share some with me?” she asked the girl, knowing she’d be unable to eat her own serving on a surely shrunken stomach. 

The child nodded, a small smile forming at the sound of her name said like that again. 

Jonathan finished his toast and washed his plate in the sink, grabbing his bookbag off of the back of the chair he’d been sitting in. “I don’t work today, so I’ll be home after school.” he said, mostly to his mother. 

“Alright, have a good day, sweetie.” 

“You guys, too. Bye.” 

“Bye, Jonathan.” Will said as his brother shut the door. A few moments later he spoke again. “Mom? Can I watch TV?” 

“Yes.” she said, glancing at the girl. “You wanna watch TV with Will while I make breakfast?” 

Eleven nodded, having already finished the toast and eager for more. She was also curious about the TV; she’d watched it for a few sporadic moments at Mike’s house, but nothing substantial. 

“Alright, let’s go to the couch. Will, honey, would you grab a blanket from the closet please?” Joyce asked, remembering suddenly that she hadn’t yet washed the girl’s bedding from the night before. Another thing to do while the kids watched TV. 

Will brought a blanket and flicked on the television while Joyce helped El get settled on the couch. The child’s eyes widened at the bright animated cartoon that appeared on the screen and she was immediately entranced. The woman smiled and ruffled both of the kids’ hair and heading off to start a load of laundry and cook breakfast. 

The girl was so enamered with the TV that she didn’t even notice the woman return with trays and a plate full of food until she sat down next to her and asked if she wanted a bite. Eleven picked up a link of sausage with her fingers and eyed it curiously, sniffing it before taking a careful bite. Deciding she liked it, she took another, then reached for the eggs, completely disregarding the fork until Joyce passed it to her with a smile. 

Eleven ate more of the meal than the woman had expected her to, and was unsurprised when she appeared very tired again after finishing. When everyone was done, Joyce took the plates into the kitchen and cleaned up. She made her own bed and Jonathan’s, and was gathering clothes for herself for the day and considering taking a shower while the kids were still occupied when she heard Will asking Eleven if she was alright. There was a strange grunting sound, followed by her son’s distressed shriek. 

“Mom! El’s throwing up!” the boy called from the living room. 

Joyce had come running the moment she heard the concern in Will’s voice. Eleven was still vomiting when she knelt beside her and rubbed her back comfortingly, feeling horrifically guilty that she’d overfed her to the point of being sick to her stomach. She should’ve known better. The girl’s heaving finally ceased, and she took ragged, whiny breaths as she looked up into Joyce’s eyes, tears of fear and force rolling down her cheeks. 

“I’m sorry, baby. I shouldn’t have given you so much, that was my fault.” she said, running a hand through the child’s growing hair, which was now tinged with sweat and warm from the heat radiating off of her head. Joyce felt it, too. “Oh, honey, I think you have a fever. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” 

Joyce helped El to the bathroom again, held her upright on shaking legs as she removed the soiled pajamas and rinsed off quickly in the shower, leaving the girl wet and shivering and clearly miserable, much like the night before. The woman wrapped her in a towel and led her into her own bedroom, noting how exhausted she was again. 

“I’m going to get some more pajamas for you, okay? You stay here.” Joyce said, leaving the towel wrapped girl wide eyed and trembling on the bed. 

Will had retreated to his bedroom the moment his mother took over and stayed there, unable to stand the sight of vomit. He looked up from a drawing when he heard a knock on the door. 

“Come in.” 

Joyce entered, smiling sheepishly at her son. “Sorry about that, hun. I know you don’t like puke.” 

“Is she okay?” he asked, even though his own stomach was still churning. 

“She’s alright, I shouldn’t have given her so much. She just needs to rest. As soon as I clean up out there you can watch TV again.” 

“Okay.” 

“Maybe we can watch a movie or something, how does that sound?” 

“Sounds good.” Will said, smiling at his mom who he knew needed it. 

“Okay, I’ll come let you know when I’m ready.” she told the boy, retrieving the last pair of his pajamas from his dresser and closing his door again. 

Joyce entered her bedroom to find Eleven curled into a ball on her bed, her eyes red rimmed and tear stained. 

“Do you feel like you might be sick again, honey?” Joyce asked, sitting next to her on the bed. 

The girl shook her head, leaning it on the woman’s shoulder. “Tired.”

“Okay, let’s get you dressed again and then you can take a nap.” 

Joyce helped her again into her son’s clothes, hoping that Hopper was coming back with more than one set for her; she had a lot of laundry to do today. El was still shivering when the woman helped her crawl under the covers and sat beside her, combing her fingers through her hair as her eyes grew heavier and heavier until she fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> my one beef with the inbetween scenes of El in S2 is???? how did she even know how to a) start a fire to begin with, and get it going in the cold snowy woods and b) know how to skin a squirrel and that she needed to cook it over a roasting pit?? I know she's smart but what 12yo who can hardly speak and doesn't know what simple household items are would be able to do either of those things instead, especially after spending a lifetime underground without ever even knowing what a fire or a squirrel is? seemed fishy to me


End file.
